


What am I? Your damn carer?

by FelicityHugo



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Hair!Kink, Hurt, Pain, Slight Smut, Swearing, ok - not really smut but some hot hot kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-12
Updated: 2015-07-12
Packaged: 2018-04-08 23:15:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4324524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FelicityHugo/pseuds/FelicityHugo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After being injured on a hunt, Dean comes to the rescue again with a bottle of Herbal Essence (many other brands of shampoo are available)</p>
            </blockquote>





	What am I? Your damn carer?

**Author's Note:**

> This is a result of my own personal hair!kink, Dean Winchester (or Jensen Ackles, I guess) hand!kink and an over active imagination.
> 
> Obvs, I don't own Supernatural or any of the characters.

“Ungh!” I grunted as pain shot through my body. My fingers were just within reach of the shower-head, but I couldn't lift my arm any higher.

“Fuck sake!” I growled. I contemplated attempting to jump and grab, but even the thought of the shock waves coursing through my bruised and battered body when I landed made me feel nauseous. Tears sprang to my eyes with frustration.

“God-dammit!!” I screamed, and kicked the bathtub.

“Hey, you OK in there?” Dean’s concerned voice came from the other side of the bathroom door.

“Does it fucking sound like it?!” I snapped at him, sitting on the edge of the tub in defeat.

“Have you hurt yourself again, woman?” Even through the thick wood of the door, I could hear the smile on his face.

“I didn't hurt _myself_ the first time, you obnoxious dick! I seem to remember there being a werewolf involved, and something about my damn hunting partner not being where he was supposed -”

The door opened with a rush and Dean stepped into the bathroom,not smiling any more.

“Now hold on a minute there, that ain't fair. How am I supposed to have your back if you go running off like you did? You’re lucky you've only got the injuries you do. If I'd been a few seconds later, it would have been much worse - I could have lo-”

I held up a hand in to stop him before he went any further. “I'm sorry, Dean. I didn't mean it. I'm just grouchy cuz I'm hurting.”

“Hhmph.” He folded his arms. “Yeah well...you moved a hell of a lot quicker than I expected, I did have trouble keeping up with you. What you trying to do in here anyway? I thought the nurses helped you shower before you checked out of the hospital?

After realising that I was going to be recuperating with two guys, one of the nurses had kindly helped me shower. She said that that and some good old fashioned sink washes should hold me off for a few days until I had regained a bit more movement. A very daunting thought but a dislocated shoulder and several broken ribs meant I could barely lift even my good arm above my waist, so I took what help I could. Asking Sam or Dean to help me shower wasn't worth thinking about, more for their sake than mine.

I sighed, and pouted. “She did, but there wasn't time to wash my hair.”

“Are you kidding me?” Dean was incredulous. “Are you going out somewhere, sweetheart? Got a big date? Who gives a crap about your hair?”

“I give a crap!” I whined. “Besides, it’s been so long since it was washed and I swear to god I can still smell werewolf guts in it. If I don’t wash it soon it’s probably gonna end up walking off my head and leaving me!”

Dean’s mouth turned down at my imagery. “OK OK, but even if I pass you the shower head, are you really gonna be able to do it on your own?”

“Of course! Well…...I should be….” I looked around at the shower head, and then the bottles of shampoo at the other end of the bath and began to think that perhaps I had been a little eager. “But - it’s so gross!”

Through the combination of pain, lack of sleep and medication my mind was quite fragile. The thought of something so small as not being able to wash my hair for a few more days hit my irrational mind, and my lip started to quiver. Realising I was in danger of crying, I stood up to leave but Dean had already seen. He put his arm in front of me to stop me.

“Alright, alright, woman. Don’t cry about it, I’ll help you.”

“Really?” I sniffed.

He suddenly seemed to realise what he’d actually offered, and his shoulders dropped. “I ain't no hairdresser, but I guess I can’t make it any dirtier. So how’s this gonna work?”

I sent him off to find something low for me sit on as I tried to work out a few other logistics. When he came back with some cushions I was unbuttoning my shirt, my back to the door.

“Holy Hell, woman - why are you undressing?!” The panic in his voice made me chuckle.

“Chill out, Dean. I'm not undressing completely. I'm gonna wear this under my arms so it doesn't get wet or in the way. You won’t have to see anything horrific, I know how women’s bodies disgust you!” I chuckled at my own joke.

About halfway through the buttons, I stopped and started to shrug the shirt off my shoulders. The movement hurt a lot, making me gasp. I closed my eyes and tried to breathe through the pain; I was going to have to think about increasing the medication a bit. There were a couple of soft thuds as Dean dropped the cushions on the floor and then I felt him step up behind me.

“Here, let me,” he muttered.. With a gentleness few knew him capable of, he started to pull the shirt slowly down my arms, one at a time. With some manoeuvring and only a couple more swear words we managed to get my shirt free without exposing anything vital. I’d lost my bra somewhere at the hospital, not that I minded, hated the damn things anyway. I instructed Dean to pull the sleeves under my arms and tie them together at the front.

He stepped back for a second to admire his handiwork. “Almost could be a cute little dress-thing.”

“Hunter-chic?” I mocked, then shook my head in disgust.

With Dean holding on to me under the arms, we were able to lower me down onto the cushions. Luckily he had chosen well and they were big enough that I was high enough to be able to tilt my head back over the bath. Sitting on the edge of the tub, he got hold of the shower head and turned the water on, waiting for it to heat up. After a few seconds he held it over my head and I smiled as soon as the water hit. I lifted my head slightly as Dean swept all my hair together with his free hand, collecting the few bits that weren't hanging in the tub. His fingers combed through my hair to distribute the water and hit a few knots he had to pull to get free.

“Sorry,” he muttered. “When was the last time you brushed this birds nest?”

“Fuck you, Winchester.” I muttered back.

“I think you were right about the ‘wolf gore, by the way. You do not wanna know what colour the water is!”

I smiled faintly, “As long as it’s washing out I couldn't care less anymore.”

There was a clatter as Dean put the shower head down and then he was reaching over me to the many bottles lining the bath.

I heard him unscrew one of the bottles and take a sniff. “Coconut? Well that explains why I dreamt about damn pina coladas that night we had to share a bed in that scuzzy motel.”

“That one outside of St.Louis? Jesus yeah, that was hideous. I almost wish they hadn't had a room to rent.”

I jumped a little at the cold sensation as he poured shampoo directly on to my head, and then his hands were in my hair, massaging it in. I closed my eyes as I felt my body instantly relax.  I've heard people describe the feeling of true relaxing as feeling as though their body becomes weightless. For me it’s the exact opposite - like my body becomes inexplicably heavy, trying to sink down to the ground. And hell does it feel good. Dean’s hands were big and strong, his touch a little rougher than I liked, but still having a good effect on me.

“Hell your hair is thick woman,” he cursed as he reached for the shampoo again.

He leaned closer as he reached around to ensure he got the other side of my head and I could feel the proximity of his body to my face. Even over the tropical scent of my shampoo, I could smell him. It was something I had never really been able to fully describe - something woody, musky and very masculine. Like any scent, it brought to mind many images - being pressed against Dean in a closet, hiding from a demon; waking up in the back of the Impala to find his jacket draped over me like a blanket;  the shirt he lent me after a messy vampire kill ruined mine and we had to walk back through a crowded neighbourhood to the motel. It was a comforting smell; it meant care, protection and love.

Somewhere during my thinking, Dean had finished shampooing and picked up the shower-head. The water was dramatically cooler than before, making me jump and shriek a little.

“Cold cold cold!!”

“Sorry, sorry, sorry..” he muttered, fumbling for the taps.

The water warmed quickly, and I smiled as he began to wash the suds from my hair.

“So, am I nearly done?” His voice was gruff, but didn't quite hold impatience I expected.

“Well, unless you don’t mind shampooing again? It was pretty dirty so probably needs it.” I held my breath, expecting a reluctant response.

“What am I? Your damn carer?” He complained, but I heard him pick up the shampoo again.

“Maybe a little gentler this time…?” I opened one eye slightly to peek at him, but he gave no response.

He poured the shampoo into his hands so it was warm when he rubbed it into my hair. His hands were more gentle this time but his grip was still strong. His fingers worked their circles over my scalp and I felt myself relax further and further. My eyes grew heavy and my body felt like it had become liquid. When he reached the back of head, right at the base of my skull, he applied slightly more pressure and I audibly groaned. My eyes flicked open, embarrassed, but he pressed the spot again and my eyes fluttered closed. But not before I caught the smug smile on his face.

“Damn, Winchester,” I mumbled, moaning again. “Where’d you pick up these skills?”

“I, er, dated a masseuse for a short time. I remembered a few things.” His voice was almost a whisper, respectful of my relaxed state.

“Remind me to send her a thank you card. Assuming you can remember her name?”

“Cheeky bitch,” he chuckled, giving my hair a playful tug.

He reached for the shower head again, and this time I definitely pouted. “Oh God, Dean - don’t stop yet, please!”

“Not normally what I'm doing when I hear those words, sweetheart.” The amusement was apparent in his voice.

“You should be so lucky,” I sassed back. “For ruining the moment with your filth, I demand that you condition my hair next.”

“You love my filth,” he retorted, “but as you asked so sweetly, I’ll do the conditioner.”

As he rinsed out the shampoo, I briefly explained to him what to do next.

“No wonder you take so long in the damn shower,” I heard him mutter.

“What’s your excuse, then? As if I need to ask!”

“I think I preferred it when you were moaning and not talking.”

“You’d best get to work then, Winchester.”

I bit my lip as he began to work the conditioner through my hair. Every now and then he teased me with a quick massage of my scalp, but mostly he just worked it through the length of my hair, combing through with his fingers and pulling along the length. After one particularly hard pull when he got tangled, I noticed a change. Although still relaxed, there was a warmth coursing through my body, especially around my stomach; my breathing was becoming shallow and fast, my heartbeat seemed loud in my head. Dean must have noticed something too because there was a brief pause. I didn't dare open my eyes to look at him.

“I - I think that should be enough,” I whispered, not trusting my voice.

But either he didn't hear me, or he ignored me. His fingers continued to stroke through my hair, although there was a lot more pulling. I couldn't find my voice to ask him to stop again, didn't really want him to. Without moving his hands from my head, I felt and heard Dean move. All of a sudden he was on top of me, on his knees, straddling my waist. His body was mere millimetres from mine, warmth radiating from him. The material of his rolled up sleeves tickled my bare shoulders and I shivered. He continued to massage my head with both hands, finding that sweet spot at the back of my head and making me moan some more. I heard him swallow hard, felt his body tense at the sound I made.

He gathered up a large handful of hair at the back of my head and pulled tight. Gasping, my back arched as heat shot through my body to the pit of my stomach and beyond. The movement pulled on my sore ribs and my hands gripped his thighs tight as I waited for the pain to subside. The scent of him suddenly filled my nose and my eyes fluttered open to see his face directly above mine. His green eyes were glazed, pupils wide with lust - almost certainly mirroring mine. His lips were parted, his breath soft and warm on my face. Like my own, it was shallow and fast. His free hand came round and cupped one side of my face, his thumb brushing just under my lips, water dripping down my chin. Tilting his head slightly to one side, he moved closer.

“Dean - wha-” My words were cut off as he pressed his lips to mine ever so lightly. Warm, and soft - oh god those lips were soft.

Seemingly satisfied when I didn't pull away, he pressed harder and captured my top lip. His tongue flicked out and licked lightly along the bottom of my lip, leaving a faint taste of whisky. I caught his bottom lip in my teeth, biting down gently and pulling. He groaned and the hand in my hair tightened, bringing a reciprocating groan from me. His kiss deepened,tongue sliding between my lips to find mine.

Trailing slowly down my neck, his fingers barely grazed my skin, leaving drops of water in their wake that cooled instantly in the air. The heel of his hand came to rest on my chest, his fingers still around my neck, grip firm but not tight. He pulled his lips from mine, and rested his forehead on my nose. His breathing was heavy.

I finally found my voice. "Dean? Dean what was that?"

"I'm sorry," he whispered, clearly embarrassed.

"Hell, don't apologise, Winchester. I just want to know where that came from!" 

"I guess, I mean...." He struggled to find the words. "I just wanted to know, I guess I needed to know what that would be like. When that 'wolf got you yesterday I thought for a moment that you were gone. I mean, I know that we can't...that we shouldn't, but I didn't wanna....I just  _had_ to know! I'm sorry, I'm sorry..."

He finished babbling and pulled away so he could look in my eyes. One hand was still in my hair, the other still on my neck, but both were gentle now. I guess letting go would mean the moment was over.

"Dean, I -" I didn't know where to begin.

Ever since we'd met there had been something, but we had reached an unspoken agreement to not pursue it. We both knew that this life was short and guaranteed to end messy. The thought of the other being left behind to deal with that was unbearable. So we kept it light, occasionally tense - but light. Our romantic attachments were firmly outside of the hunting circle, but hell if we weren't both occasionally a bit curt when we bumped into the 'romantic interest' of the other in the kitchen the next morning. 

During my silence, the look on his face had changed. A sadness filled his eyes, a fear of rejection. Afraid that maybe things would never be the same again.

"Dean, I - I get it, I understand, I really do...."

"But?"

"But...dude,that was about 3 times more intense than I'd ever imagined!" I winked at him and grinned, breaking the tension.

He grinned back, the sadness melting from his eyes - filling with pride and relief instead.

"Now - if you don't the hell off me soon, my legs are gonna go numb. And if you don't finish washing this conditioner out of my hair it's gonna go greasy."

Leaping up, he reached for the shower head but not before placing a delicate kiss to the tip of my nose.

 

 

 


End file.
